


Disjointed

by shadowOrchid



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Batfam Week 2020, Brotherly Love, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Family Feels, Hurt Tim Drake, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dick Grayson, Temporary Character Death, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake's Missing Spleen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowOrchid/pseuds/shadowOrchid
Summary: The last thing Tim remembered was a yam whizzing passed  his head, the taste of blood and then...A multi-chapter Tim drake fic, finished the Detective Comics and have to say, My boy Drake has been through A LOT as a character. show him some love.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	Disjointed

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me because it seems as a Character. Tim Drake in his short life has been through a lot!! (So lets put him through more) This a fic that is a multi and The streets we Run is in writer's block mode. however all fics will get updated. been sick as well so also participated in the slow updates.

F

Tim stared down at the circled letter, sitting hefty in the upper left corner of the page. He didn't realize his grip had tightened until he heard the protesting crunch of the paper in his hand. This was..something he was not used to, it was almost surreal. This wasn't an ego thing, where Timothy Drake could do no wrong, that he was perfect. He had enough skeletons in his closet to support that fact; however he had never experienced failure...well, lets be honest. he knew it all too well, when it came to anything personal in his life. He had indeed won awards for greatest failure but..his mind, academically he was flawless, not because he thought himself brilliant, he was brilliant.. he was a genius. He received a prestigious grant from Ivy freaking university, so literally had a paper attesting to the fact he was indeed brilliant.

He hacked into government mainframes, alien navigating systems, personal bank accounts, spy interfaces, criminal cyber crimes. He wasn't just a step ahead, but a few dozen steps ahead of everyone else in planning, finishing the mission while others were clumsily coming up with answers to problems. He deduced who batman and Nightwing were for heaven's sake, he lead an entire team of super/meta-humans into battle more times than he could count. (That is saying something) but now.. this to fail at something so mundane was alarming at best. He looked at his professor for the first time in the last fifteen minutes only to say. What was truly blaring in his head.

“..There has got to be some mistake.”

Duh. The small voice, hidden away in his head. inconveniently clarified. 

“Yes. Many.” the professor nonchalantly replied.

Tim was so circumvention right now. You know what circumvention means? It's the fancy word for frustration! 

Tim cleared his throat jabbing a finger into the assignment in his hand. “I need..clarification as to why I failed.”

The older man cocked an eyebrow briefly, barely meeting Tim's fervent gaze. “You failed because you were sloppy, disjointed in presentation and frankly, you missed the mark of the assignment completely. Your thesis is flawed.”

Tim mouth hung open...he gave a jot of a smile. “Right, but what did I get wrong?”

“Mr. Drake if you look at my desk you will no doubt notice the large pile of paper. Papers I have to grade and I'd like to get half of it done before the year ends. so..”

Tim ran a hand down his face. “Right..right, but if you could just..LOOk at me for one second just..a second and TELL me where I went wrong. That would..”

The professor continued grading the paper in front of him the pen scraping and gliding across the smooth surface of the paper. As comforting as nails on a chalk board or an air horn in the face. Tim eyes watched a few irritating seconds more before he stepped forward slamming hi palm on the desk.

“HEY, for the love of..could you actually for once be a man and look me in the eyes and tell me where I went wrong!”

The professor straightened his compliance barely accepted as he eyed Tim up and down almost in disgust. 

“Mr. Drake might I suggest you refrain yourself from whatever, you're are trying to-”

“NO! Why don't you, actually do the job you are paid to do. Instead of being the useless lump of flesh only successful in shoving his glasses up his face in front of the desk he clearly isn't qualified for!”

Idiot. What is wrong with you?! 

Tim absorbed his blunder offering a quick apology to ease the shard of tension stabbed between the air pocket between he and his gaping mouth professor. He bolted not as fast as he would like down the hallway, with all the flare of a hurricane he entered his dorm room gathering his belongings it wasn't until he closed the door of his car did he actually breathe.

He gripped the steering wheel. Then plunked his head down between his hands letting out a grown..what away to end the term. At least..he blinked. Thanksgiving. A weekend he could just settle and relax...relax and be himself.

'But you are not yourself..haven't been since you died.' 

Tim shook his head as that small voice stirred his insecurities in the cauldron of his dripping angry thoughts.

A ringing broke his self loathing bubble blindly he reached inside his jacket pocket, clicked the answer button and raised it to his ear.

“...Hello.” he managed out, not caring if he sounded exhausted. He couldn't mask it over like he normally did. To busy stirring the pot of his misery. 

“Drake, you sound awful.”

Tim barely suppressed the moan at the snarky voice withering his ear canal. Spawn..should have known, the searing pits of hell engulfing his life would be the sign of the demon head aka Damian Wayne.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Tim asked.

“Alfred, has asked me to inform you that you are expected to partake in Thanksgiving dinner and bring only yourself. I however, say bring something we can all stomach.”

Tim was convinced if the law would actually allow one punch for each person a year the world, would be a better place. 

“-rake..Drake you hear me?”

Unfortunately yes.

“yep on it.” he ended the call.

Raising his head, he clicked his seat belt in place, he pushed the key in the ignition and turned it giving thanks that at least he had something he could easily control. His troubles did take the back burner as he picked up some yams from the local grocery store. Yeah yams, it's a cliché' food, but it works with Carly Ray Jepsen music (Stephanie) what could go wrong. Soon enough he was driving down the highway, and then the road home. window rolled down not caring about the chill of the wind. Reminding himself he was indeed alive. 

His contentment was short lived as he caught a car tailgating. He frowned. “Don't think it buddy, we're on a corner and you wouldn't even-”

The car did just that, looking over to see the familiar faces of his fellow classmates. Morons absolute..hold that thought, Tim. focus on the road. focus.”

Tim's eyes widened as not at all to his surprise a truck coming head on. He calculated a solution, because he was smart..right. He let his classmates take his spot slamming on the brakes he then sharply whipped car around to let the truck squeak by with a blare of his horn. Tim let out the breath he had been holding cursing under his breath at the recklessness of University hot heads. 

The thing was.. Tim had always prided himself on being the smart one..he was brilliant, had a piece of paper to back it up. So, that is why he should have seen the cargo truck barreling at him after all it was a corner, and heck. what other outcome would there be jack knifed across the road? Thanks to his cat like reflexes, he managed to put the car in reverse but the inevitable did happen as metal collided with metal he felt his hands clutch the wheel a scream leaving his throat as his car did a best impression of a triple axle then he felt his stomach lurch as his heart grind to a halt. More than he could say for his car as it whipped around then dove down flipping in a series rotations that Simone Biles would blush at before smashing in a not so elegant heap.

The last thing Tim remembered was a yam whizzing passed his head, the taste of blood and then...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
